


A Balanced Breakfast

by NadiaHart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Based on a Tumblr Post, Dean in Panties, Drunk Texting, First Kiss, First Time, Flash Fic, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pink Panties, Possessive Castiel, Rimming, Sexting, Texting, idk what im doing, not my images, nsfw images, with images
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 09:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/pseuds/NadiaHart
Summary: Dean and Cas text. They live on separate sides of the city, so they text a lot. It starts out innocent enough, until it isn't.[nsfw images inside]





	A Balanced Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this just popped into my head because of a photo set I saw on tumblr. I put the photos into the story, so be warned. NSFW. I hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> **un-betaed.**
> 
>  
> 
> Photos are not my own and credit is given to: INSTAGRAM: nicholassherry
> 
>  
> 
> **–––––––––––––**

Dean and Cas text. They live on separate sides of the city, so they text a lot. It starts out innocent enough; Cas complaining about the asshole next-door listening to his music at 6am and 1am respectively. **  
**

“I don’t understand! Does he sleep at all? Is it an alarm? Why 6am and 1am, why? It’s like either he’s just going to sleep at 1am or just waking up at 6am, or… I… I just don’t understand.”

Dean consistently telling him to go back to sleep. To invest in earplugs. To stop texting him every time it happens and waking him up too.

“If I have to suffer, you have to suffer.” Cas would text back.

Dean has taken to responding with photos, one of his cat –yes he has a cat, it followed him home one day and hasn’t left, so now it’s his– one of him giving the camera the middle finger, one of a salad, don’t ask why. He takes photos all day long. He takes them and he always thinks of Cas. He takes them so that he has a constant stream of images to send to Cas for any reason, on any occasion.

> **Cock block**. Cas texts one night.

_What? Cas wtf, It’s 2 am!_  Dean texts back, the beer bottle pausing halfway to his lips.

> **Dean, It’s saturday. What are you doing at 2am on a saturday?**

_I’m home! Netflix. Wtf are you doing?_

> **God your boring. I was at the bar. WAS being the key word! I wish you didn’t live a fucking hour away.**

_What happened?_

> **So, I was chatting up this cute guy at the bar and my FUCKING ASSHOLE NEIGHBOR shows up! Drunk as all hell and starts slurring on me! What was he even doing in a gay bar?! Now, not only am I buzzed, but I’m alone, and frustrated. I needed to get laid, Dean.**

Dean blinks down at his phone unsure of how to respond when another text comes in.

> **I needed it, now I’m sitting on my fucking couch half nude texting you instead of getting my dick sucked.**
> 
>  

****

 

Dean can just picture a frustrated Cas – sans pants – hunched over his phone, cock half hard, sitting in his living room, his perfectly long, tanned legs, curled up on his shitty futon, texting Dean. The image make him laugh, as much as it turns him on.

_I don’t think you can physically slurr on a person, but I get what you’re saying. Sounds rough. Anything I can do to help?_

> **Not unless you’re going to come over here and wrap those pretty lips around my dick.**

Dean pauses, he rereads the text again and again. Cas can’t possibly be saying what he thinks he’s saying… can he? Fuck, if he hasn’t thought about fucking Cas, getting fucked by Cas, for months, years now. Just tasting his mouth. How many times had he drooled over that long expanse of throat as Cas drank beers, as he tossed his beautiful head back and laughed at something Dean said? How long had he been falling head over heels for his best friend? Since high school? Since Cas became the one guy who made him question his sexuality even more than Dr. Sexy. Dean's got to be sure.

_So, you think I’ve got a pretty mouth?_

He holds he breath as he hits send. Please let this be happening, please.

> **Dean. Don’t take advantage of me. I’m drunk and you are the most infuriatingly attractive, straight man I’ve ever met in my entire life. Sometimes it’s torture just to be around you. Ugh.**

A harsh breath escapes from his mouth, he feels light headed. Before he can respond another text comes in.

> **I’m going to regret this in the morning. Aren’t I?**

Dean clears his throat, his heart is jumping in his chest. Jesus fucking christ. This is his chance, he can either play this off, or he can try for something more. God he wants something more. His fingers are poised to text back when a sly smile slips onto his lips.

Yes, yes he’s going to do this.

_I think you’ll only regret it if you don’t get your ass in a taxi right now._

He hits send as he jumps up from the couch. Dean races into the bathroom, pulling his t-shirt over his head, he takes a few calming breaths before tensing his stomach and pulling out his pajama pants with his free hand. Lifting his cellphone high, he snaps a photo. Washboard abs flexed, arm tensed to show off the muscle, broad chest, the lightest dusting of hair accentuating his toned body, and most importantly bright pink panties encasing his half chubbed cock. He smirks at the photo, nerves fluttering in his stomach. This had better work.

As he is formulating his response another text pops up.

> **Wtf are you talking about? I’m too drunk and too horny to deal with your teasing tonight, Dean.**

That seals it. Biting his lips Dean captions the photo:

_Maybe you should change that to: the most infuriatingly attractive, not as straight as you thought, man you’ve ever met?_

And hits send before he can think twice about his actions.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

His racing pulse calms, his smile fades as he stares at the message thread. His nerves turn sour as no response comes in. Minutes slip by and dread replaces the excitement in his stomach. He has no idea how long he stands in the bathroom, his skin grows cold and the tile under his bare feet warms. His phone screen goes dark five, six, seven times and he clicks it back on to stare at his photo and the last message he sent. The message that has obviously ended his longest running friendship. The message that finally crossed the line, the message that outed him.

“Dean!”

His whole body flinches at the sound of his name, he pokes his head out of the bathroom door, his heart jumping into his throat. Cas is standing in the mouth of his hallway, hair messed, chest heaving, the spare key Dean had given him months ago, dangling from his loose fingers. Their eyes meet and Dean can feel the blush rising up over his bare chest, staining his neck and jaw, creeping up over his cheeks. Cas is here, Cas got his ass in a taxi and is here.

“Dean.” Cas growls his name again and Dean shivers, his breath catching. Cas’s eyes don’t miss his body’s reaction. He smirks and stalks down the dark hallway towards Dean.

Cas stops an inch from Dean, both of their chest heaving, eyes searching one another for any sign that this was a joke, for any sign that this shouldn’t be happening right now.

“Tell me to stop.” Cas whispers and Dean can taste the beer on his breath. His large warm hands reach up to cup Dean’s neck, to angle his head.

“No.” Dean manages to whisper as their lips collide. Sparks dance over his skin as Cas dominates their kiss, lips dragging, tongues prodding, sliding. Dean moans and Cas licks into his mouth, and it’s better; it’s better than any fantasy Dean has ever had.

“What took you so long?” Dean breathes, dropping his forehead to Cas’s when they finally pull back to suck air into their lungs.

“I had to put pants on. You have no idea what that photo did to me.” Cas’s eyes dip as he leans back just slightly. His gaze drops to where Dean’s pajama pants are barely holding onto the curve of his hips, the bright pink panties easily visible. Cas groans at the sight and Dean can feel his arousal surge. He watches with deep satisfaction as Cas’s eyes darken with lust as his cock throbs under the flimsy fabric; throbs and aches under Cas’s heated gaze. “What I’m going to do to you.”

Their eyes meet again and Cas pleads “Tell me to stop Dean. If you don’t tell me now, I never will.”

“No.” Dean whispers again, his pulse racing “Don’t stop. Cas, I want you, I want this.”

“You’re mine, Dean.” Cas growls, his hand knotting into the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. He takes a step forward and Dean takes one back, walking in tandem towards the bedroom. “Mine!” Cas growls his lips latching onto Dean’s exposed neck.

“Fuck. Cas.” Dean groans out, his lips parting as he fights for air. “Yours, all yours. Always have been.”

 

* * *

 

Dean stretches, his body is sated and sore in the most pleasant way. Its early morning, or early afternoon, he doesn’t know or care. The sun’s warm and streaming into his bedroom. Nuzzling his face down into his comforter Dean’s unable to hide the smile on his lips. Last night was perfect. Cas was– is perfect. He ruts his morning wood against the softness of his bed as his thoughts scatter back to the previous night. The only way it could get better is…

There are sounds coming from his kitchen, the smell of coffee in the morning air. Dean grabs his cellphone, stretching out his arm, he snaps a picture. It’s all shadows and highlights and sunspots, just the shadow of the dimples of his hips, the hint of the curve of his back, the swell of his ass, the bend of his ankle. Biting his lip to stifle his chuckle he captions the photo and hits send.

_I’ve got something you can eat right here._

Holding his breath he listens, the clanging of pans pauses at the soft chirp of Cas’s phone. There is a sudden silence, a stillness and then a crash. Cas’s cursing fills the air followed by the sound of running water and his feet stomping down the hallway. Dean doesn’t hold back his laughter as Cas’s shadow fills his doorway.

His laughter rapidly fades to moans as Cas crawls up his bed, skillful hands spreading his cheeks, his devilish tongue swiping up Dean’s perineum to swirl around his hole.

“All part of a balanced breakfast.” Cas mumbles

Dean gasps, his cellphone clattering to the floor as he arches his back and buries his face in the comforter.

**Author's Note:**

> As one of my favorite authors says: Comments activate my Praise!Kink. 
> 
> Come say **HI** on [tumblr](https://hartlessfiction.tumblr.com/)


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